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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031630">Dazed and Confused</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/3moGirl/pseuds/3moGirl'>3moGirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1976, Alcohol, F/M, Henry Bowers Being an Asshole, I know nothing about the 70s, I'm Serious, M/M, Marijuana, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning, Sort Of, The 1970s, This is an AU, Underage Drinking, Violence, anyway, degradation but not as a kink, except for the music so, of a movie, please enjoy, this is gonna be a trip you guys, where nothing fucking happens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:35:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/3moGirl/pseuds/3moGirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This coming-of-age fic follows the mayhem of a group of rowdy teenagers in Derry, Maine, celebrating the last day of high school in 1976. The graduating class heads for a popular pool hall and joins an impromptu keg party, however star football player Mike Hanlon has promised to focus on the championship game and abstain from partying. Meanwhile, the incoming freshmen try to avoid being hazed by the seniors, most notably the sadistic bullies Bowers and Hockstetter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Recommended songs:<br/>Sweet Emotion -- Aerosmith (4:34)<br/>Highway Star -- Deep Purple (6:06)<br/>School’s Out -- Alice Cooper (3:30)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Link to the "Dazed and Confused" soundtrack https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vBhr02ZjJGHZQQKWCKjfC?si=2Z889o9tQjislzN9aRxGwQ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>The Last Day of School</p><p>June 11, 1976</p><p>2:00 pm</p><p> </p><p>The last day of school could not have come any later. It’s not like the students of Derry High School didn’t know that the last day of school would feel like forever away, even on the day itself. As the school year got closer to summer, the days dragged on. But now it was the last day of school, and the four hundred students of Derry High School had a measly hour left until they were free for the summer.</p><p>As the freshmen and sophomores sat in their stifling classrooms, anxiously awaiting the bell, and the recently graduated class of ‘76 were lounging around their houses, the class of ‘77 was roaming around campus, preparing for freshman initiation.</p><p>Freshman initiation was a time honoured tradition at Derry High, and every junior class could not wait to spread fear amongst the eighth graders on the last day of school. There were rumors spreading around the school that freshman initiation was part of the reason why Hockstetter got held back (that, and his absolutely horrific grades).</p><p>Either way, the class of 1980 was in big trouble.</p><p>But we’re not focusing on those lousy freshmen. We’re focusing on a very specific group of teenagers who call themselves the Losers, a seven member group that formed in the summer of 1973, consisting of Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Ben Hansom, Beverly Marsh, and Mike Hanlon. They formed mostly because they were outliers on the graph that was Derry High School, and there was power in numbers, right?</p><p>Well, now they were seniors and they had a lot to do.</p><p>Beverly Marsh, her eyes glassy and red, stared widely at Richie Tozier, whose eyes were equally as glassy and red, as she asked lazily, “Do you ever think that this is some sort of form of homoeroticism?”</p><p>Richie snorted, and stuck a newly rolled joint between his lips. “Everything is inherently a form of homoeroticcism, Bev,” he said sagely, lighting his lighter and putting the flame to the end of his joint.</p><p>As he took a drag, Bev frowned. “No, I know, but this--” she gestured vaguely at the parking lot in which the men of the class of ‘77 were milling around with their paddles. “This is, like, <em> actually </em> homoeroticism. I mean, how much queer coding do ya need?”</p><p>“Whatever gets ya off.”</p><p>Bev snorted and nudged Richie’s leg with her foot. “I’m serious, dude.”</p><p>“Yeah, so am I.”</p><p>Before they could really “get into it,” Bill Denbrough approached the car, holding his books tightly against his chest, nervously glancing at the parking lot full of seniors.</p><p>“Hey, Billiam!” Richie greeted loudly, causing the other boy to flinch. “What’s up?”</p><p>Bill shrugged and set his books on the passenger’s seat of Richie’s car. He sat in the well of the car and put his head in his hands.</p><p>“Life is a nightmare,” he said slowly, nodding his head.</p><p>“Indeed it is, good man,” Richie said, holding out the joint to Bill. “But this is why we have <em> this </em>.”</p><p>Bill shook his head but accepted the joint all the same, taking a rather long hit. As he exhaled, Stan Uris and Mike Hanlon approached the car, conversing deeply about something or other that their friends didn’t care about.</p><p>“How’s it going, guys?” Bev asked, offering a lazy smile and slight twitch of her fingers in greeting.</p><p>Stan frowned sharply at the offending smell of weed. “Do you really need to do that here?” he asked, opening the backdoor of the car and dumping his books on the seat. “It’s disgusting.”</p><p>“Yeah, but it’s fun,” Richie said with a shimmy of his shoulders. “You should let loose sometime, Staniel. It’ll do wonders for your ass.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Because of the stick. That’s up your ass. Letting loose will get rid of the stick. Or, at least I assume so.”</p><p>Stan rolled his eyes and kicked Richie’s shin. “That’s not funny, Richie.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Stan sat on the backseat and pushed Richie away when he waved the joint in front of his face. Mike chuckled softly and shook his head as he went to his truck, which was parked next to Richie’s car.</p><p>“Hey, have you gotten that thing?” Richie called suddenly, leaning away from Stan and towards Mike.</p><p>“What thing?” Mike asked, glancing up for a second.</p><p>“That football thing. Coach has some list or whatever of things you’re not allowed to do because you’re a player or something.”</p><p>Mike rolled his eyes and slammed the truck door shut. “He’s gonna be on our ass about that, isn’t he?” he grumbled. “I mean, it’s the seventies, man. What’re we supposed to do?”</p><p>Richie laughed. “Yeah, man.”</p><p>“You could do your schoolwork,” Stan offered.</p><p>“I’m a straight-A student, Stanley. I’m totally fine concerning schoolwork.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s <em> life </em> you need to figure out.”</p><p>Richie rolled his eyes. “Life’s whatever, man.”</p><p>Bev sat up and rolled her neck. “It’s kinda important, dude,” she said. “I mean, my aunt’s on my ass about college. According to her, I’ve gotta pick a college before the summer ends.”</p><p>“Man, what a bummer.” Richie turned to Stan and leaned against his shoulder. “Is your party still on?”</p><p>Stanley Uris was a good kid, no one could deny that. He was a good student and a good son and a good Jew (maybe). One thing that Stan would never do was throw a party. He wasn’t a party kid; he didn’t go to parties nor did he host them, but Stan was a senior now. If there was ever a time for a party, it was now.</p><p>He shoved Richie off and huffed. “Probably.”</p><p>Richie grinned and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Awesome. Nine, right?”</p><p>Stan nodded. The only reason he was throwing this End of the School Year party was because his parents were going out of town. If they weren’t, he would’ve shoved the responsibility of party planning on Richie, who’d thrown many a party in his high school career. Richie was, arguably, the better party guy, but Stan was the better planner. He’d make sure there was plenty of beer and snacks, and he’d make sure everyone got out quickly if the cops were called.</p><p>“Wait, wait, Stan’s throwing a party?” Bev asked, throwing her arm around Richie’s shoulders. “Is the world coming to an end?”</p><p>“Ha ha ha. No, it isn’t, I just thought it was time I got out of my comfort zone.”</p><p>Bev snorted. “Yeah, okay.”</p><p>Stan frowned. “It’s true.”</p><p>“I wasn’t disagreeing with you, bud.”</p><p>“Okay. Good.”</p><p>“Anyway… where’s Ben?”</p><p>“Ooh, is Ms. Marsh lookin’ for her lover man?” Richie teased, leaning heavily against Bev.</p><p>She pushed him and he stumbled back. “Ben is <em> not </em> my lover man, okay. We’re just friends.”</p><p>Richie snorted. “He’s not your lover man <em> yet </em>, Bevvie.”</p><p>“No way, Richie. There’s no way.”</p><p>Richie put his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say, missy.”</p><p>Bev rolled her eyes and turned to Stan. “What should I bring to your party tonight?”</p><p>“Beer, probably.”</p><p>“You got it.”</p><p>Stan sighed. He was really doing this wasn’t he? Yes, he was, because if he didn’t, Richie would be disappointed, and--wait. Since when did he care what <em>Richie</em> thought? Sure, Richie was one of his best friends, but that didn’t mean that Stan held his opinion on a higher pedestal than say… Bill’s. Richie was just Richie, and maybe, in some shadow cavern of his heart, Stan deeply cared what he thought of him. But that was crazy. Right?<br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p>By the time the bell rang, Richie and Bev had finished off two joints, and Stan had helped Mike with their math homework as Bill looked over the rough, rough, <em> rough </em>draft of his novel. A few minutes after the bell, Ben and Eddie leisurely made their way out of the school and towards Richie and Mike’s cars. They were the only two of the seven to have a single class that day since they were on the student council, and had to wrap up the end of the school year with a sha-bang.</p><p>“Horrible,” Eddie said when Richie opened his mouth, most likely to ask how the student council went. Eddie dumped his stuff in the backseat of Richie’s car and leaned against the trunk. “It was truly horrible. Mr. King has no idea how the social settings of high school affect a teenager and their mental health. I mean, he had the audacity to ask if we were doing anything over the summer.”</p><p>The left corner of Richie’s mouth twitched up and he drawled, “Well… <em> are </em> you doing anything over the summer, Eddie?”</p><p>Eddie glared at Richie, who didn’t shrink back like anyone else would (well, like the freshman and sophomores would).</p><p>“No,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ma doens’t like the influence school has on me. Apparently, it’s too secular.”</p><p>Richie laughed, as Bev scrunched her nose in confusion.</p><p>“Really?” she asked. “My aunt thinks it’s not secular enough.”</p><p>Eddie shrugged and Richie said, “Mrs. K’s insane, we all know that.” He threw his arm over Eddie’s shoulders. “I mean, the poor woman doesn’t want Eddie to have any <em> friends </em> , are we really surprised she’d lock her so up in his room all summer so he doesn’t fall into the wiles of… <em> women </em>.”</p><p>Eddie snorted and shrugged Richie’s arm off. “I’ll find some way to get outta the house. Don’t worry. So, Stan, you’re party--”</p><p>“Is still happening, yes. You don’t have to bring anything.”</p><p>Eddie nodded and shook out his arms. “Okay, when’s initiation starting?”</p><p>Richie looked down at his watch and said, “Five minutes. I hear that Greta’s in charge of the girls initiation.”</p><p>Bev shivered. “Those poor, poor girls.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Bill snorted. “Most of ‘em might be dead by the end of the day.”</p><p>“How’s your brother doing, Bill?” Mike asked. “Is he excited for initiation?”</p><p>Bill snorted again. “Absolutely not. He tried to get Mom to let him stay home today so he could skip it.”</p><p>“It’s worse purposefully missing initiation,” Richie said sagely. “They’ll just hunt you down and give it to ya hard and heavy.”</p><p>Bev snorted. “Jesus Christ. Are you guys joining in?”</p><p>The boys shook their heads.</p><p>“Nah,” Mike said. “I don’t think I could stand to see those poor kids be afraid of me.”</p><p>“Aw, Mikey,” Richie assured, patting the boy’s shoulder, “no one could ever be afraid of you. You’re too… cuddly.”</p><p>Mike smiled. “Thanks, man.”</p><p>“Oh! Speaking of fear, Coach gave me this to give you.” Richie pulled out a folded up square of paper from the breast pocket of his Hawanii shirt.</p><p>Mike took it and unfolded it, reading it before rolling his eyes. “This is ridiculous. An actual written agreement? That we have to <em> sign </em>?”</p><p>Richie frowned sympathetically. “I didn’t know what it was, just that I was supposed to give it to you.”</p><p>Mike shook his head and shoved the refolded paper in his back pocket.</p><p>“He wants it by the end of the day.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I think he can wait.”</p><p>Richie nodded and turned to his car, smiling at Bev, who was laying on the hood, soaking up what little sun the day had offered up so far. She smiled lazily back, pushing her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose. His eyes flitted over to Bill and Stan, who were sitting on the asphalt, pouring over the notebook full of Bill’s handwriting. Next was Ben, who was sitting cross-legged on the roof of the car, reading a book (probably poetry). Lastly was Eddie, who was leaning against the side of the trunk, his arms crossed over his chest, frowning at the parking lot below them full of senior girls getting ready for initiation.</p><p>“So, are we heading over the junior high for boys initiation or staying here for the girls?” he asked, hopping on the hood beside Bev.</p><p>The other Losers’ eyes flickered between each other before they all shrugged.</p><p>“Let’s split up, maybe?” Bev offered, leaning back on her elbows. “Like, some of us go over the junior high and the rest of us stay here?”</p><p>Stan stood up and offered his hand to Bill. “Bill, Mike, and I will go over to the junior high.”</p><p>Mike shrugged and opened the back door for Bill to climb in. “See ya later, guys.”</p><p>As Mike started his truck, Richie shouted, “Stan’s house, eight o’clock!”</p><p>Stan flipped Richie off as the truck drove away, and Richie started cackling.</p><p>“Did you seriously have to?” Eddie asked sourly.</p><p>Richie shrugged. “We’re already heading over to Stan’s for his party, right? What’s wrong with going over an hour early to talk about the horrors we saw today?”</p><p>Eddie mumbled something incoherent, and Bev asked, “Did you get beer, Rich?”</p><p>“‘Course darlin’. In the trunk.”</p><p>Of course, since he was leaning against said trunk, Eddie got the beer and then sat in between Bev and Richie on the hood. He cracked open a beer and took a long gulp.</p><p>“You okay there, Eddie?” Bev asked carefully, watching Eddie over the rim of her sunglasses, her eyebrows raised.</p><p>Eddie nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Of course I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p>Bev shared a concerned look with Richie, who shrugged and took a swig of beer. She sat up, leaned against the windshield, and took a sip with a little less vigor than her friends. The alcohol was sour in her mouth, coating her teeth with invisible foam. She breathed out and pushed her sunglasses up her nose, critically eyeing the scene that was unfolding on the parking lot below them.</p><p>The girls of the class of 1980 were being lined up along the horizontal yellow line separating the parking spots rather roughly by the girls (women, really) of the class of 1977 as Greta Keene, Queen Bitch herself, shouted vulgar insults at them.</p><p>Bev shivered as she remembered her freshman initiation four long years ago. The Queen Bitch back then had been Darla Marks, a cheerleader who probably had a degradation kink now that Bev was thinking about it. Anyway, Darla had been horrible, and Bev couldn’t’ve been happier the day Darla graduated in ‘75.</p><p>“Is it always like this?” Richie asked. He was sitting crossed-legged, his elbows on his knees, beer can held loosely in his hands.</p><p>Bev shrugged. “I don’t know. Mine was a little more… degrading.”</p><p>Richie nodded slowly, his mouth hanging open slightly. “Gross.”</p><p>“Yeah. How was your initiation?”</p><p>“Brutal.”</p><p>“I think I still have a bruise,” Eddie grumbled. “O’Bannion was a piece of shit.”</p><p>Bev hissed and winced. Fred O’Bannion was, as everyone knew, a sadistic bastard, along the lines with Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter, both of whom were seniors currently tormenting the poor little freshman at the junior high.</p><p>“What about you, Rich?”</p><p>“Eh. Pickford caught me outside the video rental store. Gave me one good smack before telling me to scram.”</p><p>“Boys are so weird.” Bev shook her head. “I mean, along with the blatant homoeritcism involved with this parctice, it’s also sadism.”</p><p>“Which is why Eds and I aren’t doin’ it, Bev. We’d much rather watch thirteen year old girls get condiments dumped on them.”</p><p>Bev rolled her eyes and reached over Eddie to flick the side of Richie’s head. “Don’t be disgusting, Richie.”</p><p>“That’s what’s going on!” he insisted, pointing at the parking lot. “Look.”<br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p>Mike, Bill, and Stan winced as they watched Mitch Kramer get smacked rather forcefully on the ass by Belch’s paddle.</p><p>“I hope that kid has an icebox at home,” Stan said as he lifted his beer can to his lips.</p><p>They winced again as the paddle cracked against Kramer’s ass.</p><p>“This is horrible,” Bill mumbled before taking a long gulp of beer. “I mean, this is truly sadistic.”</p><p>Mike nodded. “I don’t think I can watch anymore of this.”</p><p>Stan sat forward and searched the junior high parking lot before asking, “Hey, where’s Hockstetter? I thought he’d called dibs on Kramer after what happened with Jodi?”</p><p>“I don’t see ‘im,” Mike said slowly. “Maybe he’s chasing after some other poor unfortunate kid.”</p><p>Bill frowned. “I don’t know. Seems weird that he isn’t chasing down Kramer. He did swear revenge last month.”</p><p>They peered out the windshield, scouring the junior high parking lot for Bowers’s truck, but they didn’t see it. It frightened them, as it always did, not to see Bowers’s brown and rusted truck prowling the streets (and stalking kids in the parking lot of both the junior high and high schools).</p><p>“Maybe he’s gone home…?” Bill tried, clutching the beer can.</p><p>“There’s no way,” Stan dismissed, sitting back. “Hockstetter’s a sadist. There’s no way he would miss freshman initiation.”</p><p>Mike nodded. “I think he’d rather die then miss it.”</p><p>Bill closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, whatever, let’s move on. What’re you gonna do, Mike? With that football thing? Doesn’t Coach want it on his desk by tomorrow?”</p><p>Mike exhaled through his nose, shrugging. “I have no idea, man. I mean, football’s great and all, but what’s with the pledge?”</p><p>“Just sign it,” Stan advised, “and then completely ignore it. Don’t get drunk or high before practices or games.” He shrugged. “Simple as that. Coach will never know unless someone tells, which I severely doubt will happen since half the football team are clients of Richie’s.”</p><p>“Yeah. I guess it’s just the… the physical act of signing the agreement.”</p><p>Stan rolled his eyes and shifted so he was facing Mike. “Mike, it’s no big deal. Just sign the Goddamn thing and forget about it.” He flopped back in his seat, and took a swig of beer. “If you turn it in today, Coach’ll get off your ass about it.”</p><p>Mike sighed. He knew, logically, that Stan was right. Football was a good thing for him. It got him out of the house and away from Bowers and Hockstetter. It made him pretty popular, but he didn’t care about that. Playing also offered lots of scholarship opportunities, something he’d need if he were going to get out of Derry. But he also knew that you should never sign your soul over to the Devil. (That wouldn’t be what he was doing, but it’s the thought that counts.) Mike wanted to keep playing football, but he didn’t think he could pledge to something he wouldn’t be upholding.</p><p>As Mike slowly went down the rabbit hole of molarity in his mind, the oh-so familiar sound of a rattling tailpipe startled Stan and Bill to sit up straight in their seats. They glanced at each other as Bowers’s truck rumbled into the parking lot. They swallowed around the lumps in their throats as they watched the poor junior high students run for the hills as the truck prowled towards them.</p><p>“It’s gonna be a massacre,” Bill mumbled.</p><p>Stan nodded. “Mike, let’s get outta here.”</p><p>When the truck didn’t immediately start up, Stan looked over and nudged Bill, who hit Mike on the arm. Mike shook his head and started the truck without a second thought, quickly pulling out of the parking lot as Bill and Stan kept an eye on Bowers.</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Stan said. “What about Georgie?”</p><p>Bill paled. “Leave him,” he decided after a moment of hesitation. “It’s too late, anyway.”<br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p>Four of the seven Losers winced as they watched Greta dump a pail of milk on a freshman. Ben, who had moved from the roof to sit beside Bev on the hood, said softly, “This is brutal."</p><p>The others nodded, staring wide eyed at the scene below them. Over the course of the hour, the initiation had just gotten worse. The seniors had dumped cereal on the freshman, along with peas, bread, and condiments (mustard and ketchup, most notably). With the addition of milk, the stench in the air grew sour, and the Losers gagged.</p><p>“They’re never gonna get that smell off,” Eddie noted, “since they’re gonna be here for at least another hour.”</p><p>Richie shivered. “God, I couldn’t imagine.”</p><p>“I can, considering you smell like soured milk most of the time.”</p><p>Richie gasped dramatically, and placed his right hand over his heart. “I am heartbroken, Eddie. I smell like weed all of the time, not soured milk.”</p><p>Bev rolled her eyes and shared a smile with Ben, who was equally as exasperated by the other two’s contentious back-and-forth.</p><p>Eddie glanced down at his watch, which read 4:05, and he groaned. “When is this gonna be over?” he asked.</p><p>Bev shrugged. “It ends whenever Greta says.”</p><p>“Man. Well, I gotta go home, otherwise Ma’s gonna call the cops.” Eddie slid off the hood and gathered his books from the backseat.</p><p>The Losers shouted their over enthusiastic goodbyes as Eddie walked towards the street. Before crossing the road, he turned around and flipped them the bird, to which Bev and Richie burst into hysterical laughter as Ben shook his head indulgently.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Recommended song:<br/>Jim Dandy -- Black Oak Arkansas (2:41)<br/>Why Can’t We Be Friends? -- War (3:50)<br/>Stranglehold -- Ted Nugent (8:22)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>The Last Day of School</p><p>June 11, 1976</p><p>3:30 pm</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>By the time Georgie Denbrough left the junior high building on the last day of school, his nerves were through the fucking roof. His entire body was shaking and he couldn’t catch his breath. It was a nightmare. He really hoped that Bill hadn’t made anyone promise not to hurt him too bad. That would be even more embarrassing than running like a chicken.</p><p>“Did you hear?” Dorsey Corcoran asked as he came to stand beside Georgie at his locker.</p><p>“Hear what?” Georgie asked, zipping his bag and slamming his locker shut.</p><p>“That your brother asked all senior boys not to give you too hard a time since you’re, and I quote, “just a kid.””</p><p>Georgie closed his eyes, sighing. He couldn’t believe Bill, that… that… ugh! Georgie was already an outcast since he had a prosthetic arm and now his brother was going around telling everyone to treat him like he was a China doll. It was ridiculous.</p><p>“He’s ridiculous.”</p><p>Dorsey shrugged. “Yeah, but at least he cares, ya know? Eddie… I don’t even know.”</p><p>Georgie slung his backpack over his shoulder and started walking, Dorsey quickly falling into step beside him.</p><p>“How’s Bill’s novel coming?”</p><p>Georgie shrugged. “Coming, I guess.”</p><p>Dorsey waggled his eyebrows as he leered, “<em> Oh yeah </em>.”</p><p>“Don’t fucking even, dude. That’s super gross.”</p><p>Dorsey broke down into hysterical giggles, but immediately stopped once they reached the doors. Georgie and Dorsey stood awkwardly in the hallway, being bumped into by other junior high kids making a break for it.</p><p>“We’re gonna die, right?” Dorsey asked.</p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>“Well, at least it’s been fun.”</p><p>They walked out of the school, looked both ways, and immediately booked it to the soccer field. They managed to get halfway before someone honked the horn of their car. Georgie and Dorsey froze (like morons, they’ll admit), their eyes wide, their breathing shallow. They prayed to God it wasn’t--</p><p>“Hey, Georgie!”</p><p>Georgie felt his body loosen and the breath slowly returned to his lungs. He turned around to see Eddie Kaspbrak, a friend of his brother’s, walking down the sidewalk adjacent to the soccer field. Though he didn’t know who had honked their horn, Georgie did know that he and Dorsey would (hopefully) be safe if they walked with Eddie.</p><p>Georgie grabbed Dorsey’s wrist and dragged him over to the older boy.</p><p>“Gotten caught yet?” Eddie asked, head cocked to the side, eyes shining with amusement and lips quirked up in a weird half smile.</p><p>Georgie shook his head. “I thought we had been when that horn honked.”</p><p>Eddie smiled. “Yeah, that always gets ya, doesn’t it? But don’t worry, you’ll get caught sometime. You’ve got all summer.”</p><p>Eddie was not making Georgie (or Dorsey) feel any better.</p><p>“So, what are you guys gonna to do?” Eddie asked as he began walking. “Running away isn’t all that smart, ya know. If the seniors don’t get you today, they’re gonna break your ass when they do.”</p><p>Georgie’s mouth went dry and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Were you--” He cleared his throat. “Were you caught on the last day of school?”</p><p>Eddie laughed and nodded. “Oh, yeah, of course. I was fast sure, but the seniors and their trucks were faster.”</p><p>A shiver electrocuted Georgie’s spine and he shook his arms.</p><p>“Sounds bad,” he said.</p><p>Eddie shrugged, shifting his books in his arms to a more comfortable position. “It’s a stupid tradition that’s never gonna end.” He shrugged again. “All depends on who you get caught by, really.”</p><p>Dorsey nudged Georgie and they both slowed down a bit, allowing Eddie to a few steps ahead of them.</p><p>“Who is this guy?” Dorsey whispered.</p><p>“My brother’s friend.”</p><p>“And what’s his deal?”</p><p>“Don’t know.”</p><p>“You could ask, you know, instead of sharing whispered conspiracies,” Eddie called, causing the younger boys to freeze for a second.</p><p>Georgie gestured for Dorsey to speak and they had a silent argument through hand gestures before Dorsey sighed and gave in. “What’s your deal?”</p><p>Eddie shrugged. “Lots of things,” he responded.</p><p>Dorsey sighed and shook his head. “Weirdo,” he mumbled.</p><p>“I prefer the term Loser.” After a second, Eddie added,  “Outlier is also acceptable.”</p><p><em> What the fuck </em>, Dorsey mouthed and Georgie shrugged.</p><p><em> It’s a whole thing. We should be thankful, he’s saving us from a horrible fate, dude </em>.</p><p>Dorsey inhaled deeply. Georgie was right. With Eddie there, they were less likely to be attacked by vicious seniors than if they were alone. Eddie was honestly doing them a favor, if he knew it or not. If Eddie weren’t there, Georgie and Dorsey would probably be bent over the hood of some jackasses truck being spanked six ways to Sunday.</p><p>Dorsey inhaled again and shook his arms out. What was happening was good. Being chaperoned by a senior was good, even if that senior was really fucking weird.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Well, this is me,” Eddie said, stopping before a two-story house that Georgie had passed by hundreds of times every day. “Good luck, you guys.”</p><p>The freshmen watched Eddie walk into his house and stood on the sidewalk for a few more minutes, trying to decide what to do.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Dorsey asked.</p><p>“Well, mine’s closer, I guess.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“But…”</p><p>“Yeah."<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p>After had Eddie had fallen upon his bed like a fucking damsel in a Disney movie, the phone rang.</p><p>Normally, he’d be scrambling to his feet to take the call because it was probably one of the Losers, but it was Friday, meaning that his aunt in Bangor was calling to complain about her husband and kids to his mom.</p><p>Besides, Bev, Ben, and Richie were probably still at the school, and there’s no way that Mike, Stan, or Bill made it home in the last five minutes.</p><p>The last day of school had gone like any other last day, except with the looming knowledge that next year… next year he was graduating. The year after that, he would be free from Derry, probably in New York or somewhere big and loud. Somewhere that considerably lacked the overbearing presence of his mother.</p><p>Hopefully Richie would be with him, though. They had both applied to NYU together and had mailed their entry essays together. They would get an apartment together. They would finally be able to be happy, free from the judgmental eyes of a too small town.</p><p>Eddie sighed. It was his one wish, besides leaving his mother, to spend the happiest days of his life with Richie, something that a considerably younger (hell, even ninth grade) Eddie Kaspbrak would have gagged at. Funny, how much life had changed in just a few short years.</p><p>Sonia Kaspbrak’s judgmental and chastising voice floated up the staircase and stopped before her son’s door. He could hear garbled statements, something about how Alice was causing a ruckus at school again. Eddie checked his watched, 3:50. He sighed. Dark wouldn’t fall for at least another two hours, meaning it was still dangerous to sneak out of the house, but he was going absolutely fucking insane just lying around in his room. There was no yeah he could pop in a movie downstairs (or even in the basement), Sonia would catch him, no matter if she was busy yelling at her sister for her inability to raise her children ‘correctly.’</p><p>Eddie sighed. He’d have to find some way to get out of his fucking room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chatper Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Recommended song:<br/>Free Ride -- The Edgar Winter Group (3:06)<br/>No More Mr. Nice Guy -- Alice Cooper (3:06)<br/>Do You Feel Like We Do? -- Peter Frampton (6:45)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <span>The Last Day of School</span>
</p><p>
  <span>June 11, 1976</span>
</p><p>
  <span>4:00 pm</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no such thing,” Bev insisted, leaning eagerly over Ben, poking Richie in the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie rolled his eyes and flicked on his turn signal. “How do you know?” he countered. “There’s a whole fucking world of possibilities, Bevvie. How sure are you that vampires and werewolves and shit don’t exist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev sighed exasperatedly, and slumped back in her seat. “It just doesn’t seem possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re admitting that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. What the fuck ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiled triumphantly and pulled into the parking lot of the Derry Bowling Alley, a regular haunt for high schoolers older than fifteen. Bev got out of the car before Richie turned the engine off, immediately running over to her only girl friend, Kay McCall (who was pretty cool and hung out the Losers occasionally). They hugged and talked while Richie parked his car, giving an exasperated look to Ben, who chuckled and got out of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Richie joined Ben, Bev, and Kay, the four of them entered the Derry Bowling Alley, immediately being met with the smell of good beer, weed, and toxic cigarettes. Richie sucked in a deep breath and took the girls’ and Ben’s order before walking over to the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning to the group with drinks, Richie asked, “When do ya think the lovers’ll get here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev took her beer and shrugged, taking her cigarette out of her mouth. “Don’t know.” She took a sip of beer and checked her watched. “It’s almost four, so they should be done junior high watching by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless they found a real saucy initiation,” Kay joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gulped down beer before saying, “Doubtful. The only initiation worth watching is the girls, and that ended a while ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben shuffled from foot to foot, his free hand shoved deep in the front pocket of his jeans. “What about Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll probably be here ‘round dark,” Bev said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Mrs. K. even sleeps,” Richie joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he can’t get out before eight, then he’ll just meet us at Stan’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he can’t get out?” Ben asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie puffed out his chest and said in a deep voice, “Then I’ll rescue him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev, Ben, and Kay laughed. Bev patted Richie on the arm and said through dissipating laughter, “Whatever you say, Rich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie ignored his friends and quickly shifted the conversation back to initiation, and more specifically, little Georgie Denbrough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you think the kid did?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he did great,” Kay said. “I mean, he took his amputation like a real champ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorted. “So you think he cried like a wuss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kay looked away quickly, a blush spreading across her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Kay,” Richie assured, putting an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “We all think that too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev kicked Richie’s in the shin and he winced, removing his arm from Kay’s shoulders. They glared at each other before Richie relented and said, “Fine. I’m sure Georgie got through it valiantly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev smiled triumphantly. Everyone knew that Bill had gathered the all the senior boys he could to tell them to go easy on his brother (he’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cripple</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you guys), but the other Losers (and the rest of the school) doubted that the seniors would take it easy and would instead take it super hard on Georgie since his brother had the </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity </span>
  </em>
  <span>to ask that they do anything other that senselessly beat his little brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, Bill would soon find out that Georgie had been beaten senselessly like every other new freshman boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The group had eventually moved to the pool tables, Richie and Ben kicking Tommy Ross and Stuart Redman’s asses as Bev and Kay leaned against the wall and collected their winnings from the several bets that were being placed simultaneously. (Richie and Ben were ridiculously good at pool, especially when they were playing together.) When Bill, Mike, and Stan made their appearance at 5:00 they immediately saw the wad of cash in Bev’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s it going, Tozier?” Mike asked, slapping said boy on the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie threw the other boy a grin over his shoulder and said, “Everything’s goin’ fine. How much cash did we got, Bevvie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Bev counted the bills in her hand, Bill went and got himself and his boyfriend’s beers, and when he returned to the pool table, Bev announced, “Two eighty-three.” She grinned. “Not bad, Tozier, Ben.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill handed his boyfriends their beer and leaned against Mike’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mikey,” Richie asked over the cracking of the pool stick against the ball. “Have you decided what you’re gonna do about football?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike sighed and took a deep gulp of beer. “Not yet. I mean, it’s a great thing, right? With loads of opportunities for college and shit, but do I really wanna sell my soul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev snorted. “This isn’t any deal with the Devil, Mike. I’m sure you’re not gonna die if you sign the agreement and ignore it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the simple act of it, Bev,” he insisted. “I don’t think I could live with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t you been drinking and smoking weed the entire time you’ve been playing high school football?” Ben asked. “Why is this year any different?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the first year Coach is making us sign a stupid fucking agreement that we’re not gonna drink or do drugs. I think they finally got fed up with Torrance showing up to practice high as a kite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Danny Torrance, who was standing at the top left corner of the pool table watching the game, looked up at his name being said and flipped Mike the finger when the words said about him were registered. Mike blew a kiss to Danny in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? It’s not like you’re gonna sign the damn thing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already did,” Danny said in his usual lazy tone. “Turned it to Coach right after school. Are you signing it, Hanlon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, Torrance, what’s the point of agreeing to something that I’m not really agreeing to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Danny snorted and took a swig of whatever alcohol was in his flask. “Rule breaking, Hanlon. That’s the simple notion you can’t wrap your head around. Even though you’re technically breaking the law right now by drinking. Since you’re under age and shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rule breaking,” Mike echoed. “Is that what it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan nodded and said, “You’re a good two shoes, Mike.” He took a swig of beer. “Following the rules is ingrained in your system. You only break the rules when they’re not actively being pushed to be followed. That’s why this is such a big deal for you. You can’t break the rules when you know someone will be making sure that you’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As always, Stan had a point, and Mike was loath to admit that his boyfriend was right (even though Stan already knew he was right, he was always right).</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It was eight o’clock by the time Eddie managed to sneak out of his house. It was a lot more difficult now that Sonia knew what to look out for since she had caught Eddie sneaking out exactly one hundred and twenty-two times before July 11. She always blamed her son’s disobedience on his horrible friends, who were luring her son away from the safety of her arms and to the danger of the gaping mouth of the world. Eddie frankly thought that was all bullshit, considering he was the one who was sneaking out, and none of his friends had goaded him into leaving his house in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie Kaspbrak walked into the Derry Bowling Alley at eight-thirty, winded from the long walk from his house to the alley. None of the Losers noticed him, too busy crowding around the pool table, cheering on Richie and Ben as they mercilessly kicked their opponents asses. Eddie smiled and ordered a beer, taking a sip as he crossed the alley to the pool tables.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie spaghetti!” Richie cried when he spotted the other boy, immediately abandoning the game and drawing Eddie into a tight hug. “Where’ve you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smoothed out his shirt as he said, “Trying to sneak out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grinned. “That’s my man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes and retreated to the space between Kay and Bev, the latter immediately wrapping her arm around his shoulders and drawing him to her side. Eddie scoffed but didn’t pull out of her embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched two or three more matches (Richie and Ben winning them all) before Stan announced that it was probably time he headed home to prepare for the party, assuring the Losers as he left that he didn’t need help setting up. As he left, Thomas Arnold forked over thirty bucks after Richie crushed John Coombs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, who’s next?” Richie asked, setting his pool stick on the ground and leaning against it, grinning predatorily at the sizeable crowd that had gathered around the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They were home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan stood in his front yard staring at his lit up front windows with his lips pressed in a tight line. This was not good. Fuck. They were supposed to live that afternoon, most likely when Stan was with Mike and Bill at the junior high, but they hadn’t gone. Why hadn’t they gone? What could’ve possibly stopped his parents from taking their annual vacation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe they heard about his party. But that was so out of the realm of the possible, right? His parents didn’t really… </span>
  <em>
    <span>hang out</span>
  </em>
  <span> with people. They knew people, sure, that was a side effect of being rabi, but they weren’t, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> with anyone. At least, not that Stan knew of, and even if they were friends with people, it still would’ve been impossible for them to find out. Stan only told six people about his party, who had then gone and spread the news to the more trustworthy of the student body, who would then spread the news on the last day of school, making sure no one would accidentally let it slip to an adult that Stan Uris was throwing an end of the year party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it was impossible for his parents to know that a party was going to happen. But yet here they were, at home and not currently driving to their summer cabin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan blew a puff of air out of his mouth and retreated down the street. There was no way his party was happening now. He needed to tell the Losers. He needed to find a pay phone, but the only one near him was at the Costello Avenue Market and that would be at least a fifteen minute walk, and by then it would be--Stan glanced down at his watch, it read 8:35--at least 8:50, which meant that there would be barely any time to spread the news that his party was off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan took a deep breath. He would go to the Costello Avenue Market and ask to use their pay phone. He would call Richie at the Derry Bowling Alley and explain the situation. Richie would most certainly be able to come up with a plan and spread the news before nine. There weren’t a lot of things that Richie was good at, but planning a party in less than ten minutes was one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Set with his plan, Stan started down Jackson Avenue.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No shit, dude!” Richie laughed. He didn’t even know that the Derry Bowling Alley even </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> a phone, let alone that Stan knew the number. “They didn’t go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Stan grumbled. “They didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… why’re you calling me, then, if your parents are home and the party’s off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to get the word out that the party’s off, dipshit. And I need you to plan a new one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorted. “You’re not serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan didn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, you are serious. Okay… it’s what--” Richie glanced up at the clock on the wall behind the bar “--eight-forty? So you need me to tell everyone that the party’s no long being held at your place and instead somewhere that I need to find?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can do that. How’s the Moon Landing sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan let out a breath of relief. “Yes, that’s a great idea. I will never say this ever again, but Richie, you’re the best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie grinned. “Anything for you, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could practically hear Stan’s eye roll. “Nine-thirty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No hay problema.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan hung up and Richie handed the phone back to Shannon Cotterie. She hung the phone back on the receiver, asking, “So, the party off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way, hun,” Richie assured. “Moon Landing, nine-thirty. Spread the word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shannon smiled. “Sure thing, Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie maneuvered through the crowd to the back wall that the Losers were leaning against, openly mocking some of the events that were transpiring before them. Richie stood in front of them and gestured for them to gather around, which they did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, here’s the thing,” Richie started, “Stan’s parents didn’t leave town.” He paused for the appropriate gasps and wide eyes. “Yes, yes, it’s horrible, blah, blah, blah, but we can move past this, right? Right. That was Stan on the phone, and he told me to move the party to the Moon Landing. Nine- thirty. Spread the word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t wait for any of his friend’s replies, instead barreling forward, “Mikey, you and Bill are on beer duty. Eddie and I’ll get a couple kegs. Ben and Bev, take my car and drive up the Moon Landing and tell every teen you see that Uris’s party has been moved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other Losers broke away and started their respective duties. Eddie looked up at Richie and asked, “What are we doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to get Stan and drive up the Moon Landing, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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